Chapter 11
Oscar's words instantly put me on alert. Just as I was about to ask him something, he raised an eyebrow and turned to leave.
Without hesitation, I put down my wine glass and hurried after him: "Mr. Lopez, wait. There are some things I need you to explain clearly."
Oscar finally stopped: "So you're willing to talk to me now?"
"Mr. Lopez, you can't drop hints and then just walk away! You said you wanted to talk, so talk! Stop being such a tease!" I didn't answer his question, but threw one back at him instead.
Oscar looked at me with a light laugh: "I've always said we might have a chance to work together. What you want, I can give you—more than Michael can. If you agree, I'll take you away right now. How about it?"
I took a step back, narrowing my eyes slightly, my whole body on guard: "Mr. Lopez, you should know I'm Mr. Johnson's person. If you're trying to use this as a bargaining chip, the answer is no. Everything else has nothing to do with me. Mr. Lopez, have a good evening."
As for what relationship he had with Gregory, I no longer wanted to know.
Oscar smiled at me: "Are you sure? Just say the word, and I can make your wishes come true. You really won't reconsider?"
I said nothing and turned to leave. I knew someone was secretly watching my every move. The moment I showed any intention of working with Oscar, my life would be in danger.
Sure enough, when I returned to the banquet hall, Michael tilted his head and looked at me with that wicked expression, the coldness in his eyes having faded somewhat: "Oscar's approached you several times now. You're really not tempted?"
I answered seriously: "Playing both sides will kill my career. I'm your person, which means Oscar can only be an opponent. Beneath the benefits lies a blade, and I don't want to die yet."
"Emily, you have a clear sense of right and wrong, and you won't do anything to get revenge. You can keep a clear head. I'm really starting to like you more and more." Michael's eyes showed approval.
I secretly breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps I had at least passed his test.
Michael handed me a business card: "This is a plastic surgeon from Novaria. He's giving a lecture here for the next couple of days. I thought you might need this, so I've already made contact for you."
I took the card from him, somewhat surprised, my hand unconsciously reaching through the veil to touch my face. After two months, I had forced myself to accept it, but could my face really be restored?
"I like good-looking people. Having you walk around in front of me like this is too hard to bear—you look like a monster. Time's tight, so hurry up and contact him. I'll pay for it first, but you'll have to pay me back double later." Michael's words dripped with disgust.
"Thank you, Mr. Johnson." Despite his disgusted tone, I heard concern in it.
I soon met with the plastic surgeon. He examined my face from left to right, as if studying a work of art, which made me very uncomfortable.
"Emily, honestly, your recovery will be difficult. Right now, your face is completely covered in scar tissue. Even if you spend a lot of money and time, it won't be perfectly restored. In your case, unless..." The doctor hesitated, speaking slowly.
"Unless what?" Looking at the doctor's furrowed brow, I had almost no hope left.
"Unless you get a face transplant. Large-scale repair won't work well, so we'd have to do a complete skin graft. But this would be very painful, and the surgery has a high risk of failure, so no one has actually chosen this option before." The doctor hesitated, then shook his head, dismissing the idea.
"I choose the face transplant. What could be scarier than what I have now?" If possible, I was willing to live with a completely new face, totally separated from Emma's former identity.
The doctor didn't seem surprised by my choice. After all, what girl wouldn't want perfect looks? "Alright, let me go back and research the specific methods, then we'll discuss it further."
That year, I worked as Michael's assistant, handling various matters while traveling back and forth to Novaria for surgery after surgery.
Peeling skin and shaving bones wasn't just a figure of speech. It took me five surgeries to remove all the skin from my face. As the layers of bandages were unwrapped, I saw a completely unfamiliar person in the mirror.
There wasn't a trace of my former self in my eyes or brows. Even my face shape had changed from the bone shaving.
Now, even if my so-called father stood in front of me, he wouldn't recognize me.
Looking in the mirror, I reached up to touch my cheek, no longer covered in crisscrossing scars. The smooth, delicate feel still seemed unbelievable. The person in the mirror had cold eyes, long and slightly upturned, giving me a look of indifference similar to Michael's.
"Congratulations, Emily. The surgery was very successful. All the pain you endured this past year was worth it." The doctor said with a smile.
I handed him a check: "Thank you. You worked hard."
"No need, Mr. Johnson already paid your fees..." The doctor tried to refuse.
"Take it. This is what I should pay. I'm now an example of your plastic surgery skills. Mr. Johnson's plastic surgery hospital in Novaria is completely finished and will open soon. I hope we can work together happily." I smiled and extended the final invitation.
The preliminary negotiations for the project were almost done. With my case as an example and Samuel Harris as a renowned plastic surgeon, I could foresee how successful the business would be.
When I left the hospital room, I still habitually put on my hat. The black veil had long become my protective shield. I was still used to covering my face with it.
After the plane landed, I got into the car that came to pick me up. Instead of going to my own apartment, I went straight to Michael's villa to report on the plastic surgery hospital.
Michael didn't seem very interested in my report. Instead, his gaze casually fixed on my still-veiled face: "Dr. Harris said your surgery was very successful. Why are you still wearing the veil?"
"I'm used to it." I unconsciously touched the veil, as if confirming that having it there gave me more security.
"Take it off. Let me see." Michael's fingers slowly tapped the table in front of him, his tone brooking no argument.
I removed my hat, revealing my delicate face before him. Unless you looked closely at the scars behind my ears, no one would imagine how ugly and unbearable this face had been a year ago.
Michael stood up, leaned forward, and grabbed my chin to examine it carefully.
I didn't retreat, just turned my head slightly to escape his grasp: "Mr. Johnson, it's not my face you valued anyway."
Michael's eyes showed satisfaction: "Looking at it this way, you're much easier on the eyes than before. Suddenly I feel like that fifty million dollars was a good deal."
Really? I earned back that fifty million dollars plus more the very next day. Why was he still hung up on my price tag?
"Shouldn't I have earned it back long ago? And I've made way more than fifty million dollars by now."
Michael raised an eyebrow, a wicked smile at the corner of his mouth: "But you're still some distance from fulfilling your promise to me. I'm suddenly thinking, letting you go after three years—I really can't bear to part with you. Emily, why don't you stay with me? Everything I have will be yours. How about it?"
"Mr. Johnson, don't joke like that." I took a step back. My face was still a bit tight from the new skin, making even my smile look unnatural. "We had an agreement."
Michael looked at me and laughed, seeming to be in a good mood: "Look how scared you are. Don't worry, when I give my word, I don't take it back. Now that your face is healed, what other plans do you have to take my business to the next level?"
A slight smile appeared at the corner of my mouth: "Our company has stretched itself too thin. Aren't we a bit short on liquid assets? I think we should get some money first to make the follow-up work easier."
Gregory should get what he deserves.
I opened my laptop again. Looking at the familiar code on the screen, a cold smile slowly curved my lips. After a year, I had complete control over Gregory's Novagen Group financial system.
This gift—Gregory, please accept it.
My finger rested on the Enter key and gently pressed down. Those strings of code, like a raging flood, surged through the vulnerabilities I had already arranged.